


Angel is the Centerfold

by KryptoniteTie



Series: Welcome to My Nightmare (Tommy Series) [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford is a Good Dad, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Silly, Stan's Pissed, Tommy Continues to be a Reckless Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryptoniteTie/pseuds/KryptoniteTie
Summary: An in-between for Freeze Frame and the next fic, Time in a BottleTommy finds an old underwear magazine. Both he and Stan recognize a familiar face.





	Angel is the Centerfold

Ford scours over the data from his laptop. Northeastern section of the woods? Nothing. Southeastern? Nothing. Eastern? Nope. Western? Southwestern? Northwestern? North? South?  
  
All nothing.  
  
He sighs. “I think Cipher might just be leading us on a wild goose chase, boy.”  
  
Tommy looks up from the logbook, where he’s been writing the numbers Ford’s been telling him to jot down. The basement control room is dark, save for the lamp by the futon in the corner. A lot of the old tech had been removed in the last year, but enough was left over to keep that retro-sci fi aesthetic alive. They’re both sitting at a foldable table set up in the center of the room. Tommy checks a clock on the desk. It’s 1 in the morning.  
  
“Maybe he’s scared of us?”  
  
Ford shakes his head. “No, if he were afraid, he’d be trying to manipulate us, break everyone apart. He’s plotting something...”  
  
Tommy nods, tapping his pen on the table. They’d been going at this since 10 pm, and still, nothing. Some minor shifts, yeah, but nothing that matches Bill’s signature. Tommy lets out a yawn, but tries to shake the sleep from his body. Not yet. Doc still needs him awake.  
  
“He’ll, slip up sometime…” He trails off.  
  
Ford hears the sign of tiredness, and slumps his shoulders. It is getting late, and Thomas had only just today come back to the world of soft organic tissue. The scientist is still kicking himself a bit for, not being there for him and not even bothering to check his pager, but, at least the boy is alright now. He’s even made some friends, too. Ford knows those are vitally important in times like these. Yes, to help combat Cipher’s potential manipulation, sure, but he more so means adjustment periods like this. New house, new town, it can be overwhelming if you only know one person, and they’re an introverted, socially awkward old man.  
  
Ford taps his fingers on the table. “Do you, want to call it a night here?”  
  
Tommy stretches out, and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “N-no, I can--”  
  
“What did I say earlier? About overworking ourselves?”  
  
He moves his hands to the side of his head, in order to get a full look of Dr. Pines’ smug expression. Tommy rolls his eyes. “Awlright, but…” Tommy pauses, and starts to cave in on himself, “...can we still talk for a bit?”  
  
“Absolutely!” Ford almost immediately blurts out. Another thing he said was important was communication, after all, and he’s glad it’s not taken but a day for Thomas to get the message! The boy’s already doing so much better than he was at that age. A little pride for the young man wells up in him.  
  
Tommy sets his arms flat on the table, looking at Ford blankly. It takes him a second, but he musters up the words, “What’s the deal with yer brother?”  
  
He looks at his charge owlishly. That, is a loaded question. “I… hm. What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, he’s like…” Tommy gestures with his hands awkwardly. “What’s he think of me?”  
  
The inquiry makes Ford contemplate. Stanley, hadn’t said much of anything about Tommy, as far as he was aware. Yes, the general, ‘Can’t believe ya dragged that stray home, Ford.’ and ‘You sure he’s not got rabies or anything? I don’t think the kids have had their shots.’ was all but abundant, but that’s just how Stan talks about everyone. With snarky ribbing and miffed contempt. As far as what Stan actually thought? He did, steal that mug for the boy during the camping trip, and even when Thomas first got here, helped Ford take care of him. Though the results of that, last example were… questionable, it certainly didn’t seem like Stan outright hated Tommy.  
  
“I, think he regards you as a neutral presence.” Ford states. “Why are you asking?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
\-------  
  
As Tommy recounts the event to Ford, our scene is set to a summer day a week and a half ago, where Tommy sits by the cashier desk in slacks and a blue Hawaiian shirt, flipping through an old 80’s underwear magazine with a nearby Soos and Wendy.  
  
“Oh man, look at that hair!”  
  
They’re mostly laughing at bad hairstyles, and the strange makeup decisions. Some of these ladies had neon green eyeshadow with purple lipstick, and hair pinned up to look like a UFO! They flip the page, and there’s a few that are even worse!  
  
Tommy fights back a laugh. “Jeez, the mullet on this lady!”  
  
He points out the hair, and Wendy laughs uproariously. Soos, however, only chuckles slightly, and then frowns as he looks at the pair with a serious gaze.  
  
“Don’t you dudes think it’s a little anti-feminist to make fun of these fashion choices? Yeah, to our modern eyes they seem wacky and dumb, but this was the fashion back then, and thus, we’re tearing down these ladies who were only following the trends of the era, probably in order to just get work. It feels a little off, if you ask me.”  
  
Tommy frowns. Wendy scratches her arm, until Tommy holds up the page and points to the next model.  
  
“This woman literally shaved her head in the shape of a lizard and dyed it green.”  
  
Soos gets a good look and then laughs with his full belly. “Okay, nevermind dudes. That’s hilarious!”  
  
They go on a bit more, not even noticing Stan walking in. They get to the centerfold, where a lady Tommy almost thinks he’s seen before is laying the length of two pages, sideways. Wendy gets a good giggle out of the lady’s perm, but Tommy furrows his brow, trying desperately to remember where he’s seen her before.  
  
Wendy sees the gears turning in his head, and mistakes them for him worrying about something. “Hey, you ok man?”  
  
Tommy scans the bottom of the page, looking to see if it lists the lady’s name.  
  
The realization pops into him.  
  
“Oh! _That’s_ where I’ve seen her before!” Tommy yells out as he smacks his hand against his head.  
  
Stan’s curiosity makes him step a bit closer, eavesdropping.  
  
Wendy and Soos glance at each other, and then back at Tommy. “What?”  
  
“This lady, I’ve met her!” He exclaims. “She owns a record store in Chicago! She used to be a big rock groupie too. She told me all these stories about her time on the road…”  
  
Stan sips his soda and inches closer.  
  
“Gosh! She even let me crash on her couch for a night when I missed my bus!”  
  
“She sounds awesome!” Wendy blurts out. “What’s her name?”  
  
Another side-step. He’s peering over Soos’s shoulder when….  
  
Soos reads the name off the bottom.  
  
“...Carla. Carla McCorkle.”  
  
It’s dead silent for a beat, and Tommy feels a chill run up his back.  
  
A large hand reaches over and grabs the underwear mag out of his hands faster than he can blink.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Stan walks away from the three slackers, looking over the current page, eyes widening in horror. He stops when he hears Tommy cry out. Stan keeps his back to him, but the sides of the magazine crinkle in his grip.  
  
“You were laughing at this?”  
  
“Just, the hairstyles--”  
  
“Ya think this is funny?”  
  
“Look, Mister--”  
  
Stan turns around, and Tommy can see his nostrils are absolutely flaring. His eyebrows almost form a perfect ‘V’ with how pointed they are, his wrinkly old-man face is redder than his knit hat, and he’s flashing his teeth like a dog ready to bite.  
  
The intensity of the expression makes Tommy do an exaggerated swallow.  
  
Stan rolls the magazine into a tube, and shoves Tommy in the chest. “NO, **_YOU_ ** LOOK HERE! IF I EVER CATCH YOU LAUGHING AT SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN, NOT EVEN POINDEXTER’LL BE ABLE T’SAVE YA! GOT THAT, TWERP?”  
  
“I…”  
  
Stan doesn’t even give him time to react. He smacks Tommy upside the head with the rolled-up magazine and storms out of the room, fuming. The ‘Employees Only’ door slams open, and then rocks back and forth on its hinges before it closes to its resting position again. Soos and Wendy stand on the sidelines, completely silent.  
  
Tommy’s brain flounders as he’s caught in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do.  
  
“...Well, you can have it, you skeevy old fart!”  
  
\-------  
  
Back in the present…  
  
Ford sighs as Tommy’s retelling comes to a close.  
  
“Oh, Stanley…” He holds his temple with five fingers, the sixth raised upwards. “No, Thomas, I promise that has nothing to do with you.”  
  
Tommy finds that hard to believe. “It’s just, weird after all that, dumb mushy stuff, he still--”  
  
“Wait. What ‘mushy’ stuff?”  
  
“Oh. Well…”  
  
He explains to Ford how Stan blocked his path the first night, saying that he’d ‘practically been him’ before reading him like a book, and then how earlier in the week, before the Pines family left for the road trip…  
  
“He just, let me stick my hand in, and take as much as I thought I needed, so I walked away with $600 in cash. Damnedest thing.”  
  
Where the event Tommy recalled failed to startle Ford, this development did in spades. Stan doesn’t just, _give out_ that kind of money. Not unless he thinks someone is, more or less dying right before his eyes, and he doesn’t know what else to do besides chucking wads of bills at them until they stop. Or he’s trying to bribe someone to go away and/or keep quiet.  
  
Was he trying to make Tommy go away? No, that can’t be right. Stan would never oust someone with no safety net or support system to fall back on. He’d be the first to tell you all the money in the world could never give a person that. Then, what could the reason be?  
  
A terrible thought creeps into Ford’s head. Perhaps, it wasn’t actually _Stan_ that gave Tommy that money. The barrier, though! That should keep him out! Unless Bill has free access to someone’s head...  
  
Tommy, did go back on his side of the deal, and Bill undoubtedly wants to collect. He would still have full access to the boy’s mind. It’d be a simple task for him. Telling Tommy where the stash of money is, and making it seem like Stan told him instead. The confusion would cause a huge social rift! Making it easier for him to sink his claws into Tommy! Would that be why the triangle’s not getting picked up on their radar? He’s hiding within the boy’s mind?  
  
Ford pops up to explain the epiphany, but instead finds his assistant asleep on the job. The boy drools a little bit as his head rests on the table. Ah, no. No one whose thoughts were being harassed by Bill Cipher would look that at ease while sleeping, would they?  
  
He takes the boy out of his chair and lays him in futon, on his side. Head on pillow, tucked into blanket. Ford peeks at Tommy’s face again. He’s so peaceful. Youth radiates off him akin to the gentle glow of a midnight lantern. He’s so new and fresh to the world, yet, he’s already seen so much pain. So much agony. How does he do it? Stay so optimistic that Bill will be defeated without incident? Ford can’t help but wonder if the boy’s in denial too. Or if he really is that headstrong. That naive. He sits in the chair and listens to Tommy’s small breaths. Chest rises. Chest falls.  
  
Ford shakes his head. He laughs silently. How in the world did he get so attached? Mr. Trust-No-One deciding to foster a homeless 23-year-old on the spot? He looks towards the bottom of Tommy’s back. The left side. Where _that_ should be, if it wasn’t currently under a shirt and a blanket. He can still hear that madwoman’s shrill voice bleating out, that pastor quietly asking her to stop, Tommy’s gut-wrenching, pained shrieking…  
  
A shiver. Phantom burning sensations around his neck. Ford’s hand clasps his own throat. Seems they’re two of a kind. Him, and this weirdo and hooligan.  
  
Speaking of things that are two of a kind…  
  
\-------  
  
“Stanley, it was _High School_ .”  
  
“SHE WAS THE ONLY PERSON I EVER LOVED!”  
  
“You were only dating for a WEEK!”  
  
“IT WAS FOREVER IN MY HEART!”  
  
“SHE LEFT YOU FOR A MUSICIAN! YOU NEED TO LET HER GO!”  
  
“NEVER!”  
  
  
**_Pb eorrg uxqv frog; Pb phprulhv kdyh mxvw ehhq vrog!_ **


End file.
